Harry Potter and the Hunger Games (2017)
by pxlblack
Summary: (AU) Concept: Harry Potter. In the Hunger Games. With a lot of people. I don't know what this is. (on hold because i am an absolutely terrible person and cannot keep updating)
1. Chapter 1

I

When Harry woke up, the other side of the bed was cold. He sat up, seeking his parent's warmth (whilst hitting his head on the low ceiling, as it was, after all, a cupboard under the stairs) but only finding the rough mattress and coarse, cold sheets, because he remembered that his parents had been murdered fifteen years before.

A sinking feeling arose in his stomach, twisting and clenching his gut. Harry struggled with this emotion for a few moments, unable to understand where it was coming from, but then he remembered. Today was the day of the reaping.

A loud rapping jolted him from his thoughts. He swallowed his fears and put on a confident voice. 'Come in, Aunt Petunia!'

Aunt Petunia came in. Harry had a particularly close relationship with her, for she was the sister of his late mother, Lily. She was a kindly woman, her long bony face (which was quite similar in shape to a horse) always stretched into a smile. She tiptoes in, before sitting on his bed.

'Is everything okay, Aunt Petunia?' Harry asked.

Petunia looked away, shaking her head. 'No, Harrywinkles,' she said. (Harry suppressed a cringe; he had been trying for years to get his aunt to change his nickname) 'You see, me and your uncle are just desperately worried for you and Dudders on this particular day.

Harry smiled consolingly. 'Aunt Petunia, its fine. I've made sure that Dudley hasn't had to have any extra slips in the reaping with my magic. Like any magical child in a muggle family would do.'

'But- what if Dudley gets picked? You know he's a muggle. The rules aren't fair on my Dudders, you know that.' Petunia trembled.

'I know.' Harry looked at his aunt, genuine sadness coursing through him. 'Auntie, I can't imagine it happening, though. I promise it'll be okay. He's gone through a few reapings now, and he's not been picked. It's out of thousands. Don't worry yourself too much.'

Frown lines appeared between her eyebrows. 'But- but what about you, Harry dear? You've put your name down far more times I care to count.'

Harry shook his head, as if he could clear his fears and worries that simply. 'Oh, don't worry about me. I'll be okay.'

Petunia smiled weakly; even though she couldn't quite believe him, the least she could do was support him. Like family should.

If Lily and James Potter had not been killed tragically in the Hunger Games of 2002, they might have been there to help Petunia, Vernon, Dudley and Harry. But, as misfortune would have it, they were both picked when they were eighteen, the last reaping they were expected to attend. They were both murdered in the arena, leaving their one year old son, Harry James Potter, in the care of Lily's sister, Petunia, and her husband, Vernon Dursley.

Although the Dursley's also had a one year old son, this did not stop Harry from being any less loved; on the contrary, Petunia and Vernon loved Harry like they loved their very own, Dudley. The children grew up together, and were closer than brothers. As they grew older, they lost their intimacy, creating room for new friends, but the pair were often still inseparable. However, there was always a barrier, always something special about Harry that made him different to the Dursley's, and the reason for this: Harry Potter was a wizard. Not that this changed much, though.

Petunia pushed away the thought uneasily. She smoothed down Harry's hair, which had been mussed by sleep. 'Are you going to meet Ginny today?'

At the mention of Ginny, his heart began to race. The thought of being able to take his mind off all this reaping business by being with his best friend made him happy. He nodded. 'Yeah, I told her we'd hang out today. In fact,' Harry checked his watch hastily, 'I should get going now.'

'Okay sweetheart.' Petunia attempted a smile, and left the room, leaving Harry alone again to get changed. He would meet Ginny in the woods, where they spent all of their time together.

Ginny was a tall, striking girl, with fiery ginger hair and a matching personality. She came from an equally unprivileged family, with five younger brothers whom she cared for dearly, and protected them as well as she could. But she was powerless against the law. Her brother, Fred, had already died three years previously in the 72nd Hunger Games. Now, at eighteen, this was her last year of legibility, but her name was in the bowl so many times, Harry did not want to estimate her probability.

'Harry!'

He blinked, and there she was, standing a few metres away. He grinned, his pace quickening.

'Hey, Harry, look what I got!' Ginny grinned as they met, holding up a small white paper bag. She put her hand inside and produced two chocolate frogs.

Harrys eyes widened in surprise. 'Ginny, wow!' Chocolate frogs were a delicacy, so naturally, only eaten by the richer folk in town. 'How did you get this?'

'Ollivander. Didn't even cost me anything. Even wished me luck. He says hi to you, too.'

Gratitude flowed through him as he clutched the chocolate. 'I'll save it till after the reaping. My family and yours, we'll have a feast.'

The pair sat down on the grass, looking out to the open space. Harry looked out, he liked to see the sea, and beyond that, the faint outline of another city, another place. He didn't know where, though.

Sadness wracked him like a physical pain. The Ministry of Magic ruled England, divided them up into districts and forbade them to venture out beyond those; as the penalty was death, no one ever disobeyed the Ministry. Harry longed to go to other places, he missed places he'd never been before, and he longed for them like they were distant memories. Memories of what used to be.

'We could do it, you know.' Ginny said quietly. She wasn't looking at Harry, but into the distance.

Harry blinked. 'What?'

Ginny shrugged. 'Leave. Leave this place; we could do it, you and me. We-'

'-you have brothers to look after.' Harry interjected hastily. 'And I have Dudley.'

'It was purely hypothetical.' She replied, a hint of venom in her voice.

'Why bother even imagining? It's not like it could ever happen. We're prisoners to the Ministry.' Harry said, picking the edges of the bread loaf. Crumbs fell into his lap.

'I know.' Ginny snapped. 'Look, just forget I said anything.

Harry did not respond to this; instead, he stood up, stowing his wand into his pocket. 'I've got to get going. My aunt will be worried.'

Ginny nodded, averting his gaze. 'See you.'

'Bye.' He replied shortly, before turning to walk away.

'-oh, Harry?' he turned, to see Ginny standing, wand under one arm, the remains of the loaf under the other. A wry smile played on her lips. 'Wear something nice.'

At home, Harry found his aunt, uncle and cousin ready to leave. They were dressed up in their best clothes: Dudley's in his too- small- suit, the shirt rising up slightly every time he moved, Aunt Petunia in her floral summer dress, Uncle Vernon's tie knotted too tight at the neck. They all smiled encouragingly at Harry.

He went straight upstairs to take a shower, scrubbing the grime from the woods off of him. Afterwards, he even combed his hair, although he knew that it would become messy very soon, as his hair simply couldn't be tamed. He put on his best suit, and decided that he was ready to go.

Approaching the square was a strenuous activity. At one o'clock, they left the house, and walked a five minute journey. The atmosphere was thick with tension, anger, and sorrow. No one wore a smile, or anything vaguely distinguishable as cheerful. A Ministry banner hung around the town statue of Newt Scamander, concealing his face. Harry's fists clenched; the only positive thing in the town, and it was hidden in ugly logos.

People filed in silently, holding hands of loved ones. After the entrance, the children were herded in to separate areas, and then separated again by ages, towards the front. Fortunately, Harry and Dudley were both sixteen, so they stayed together.

The space becomes more oppressive, more confining, until the mayor, Albus Dumbledore, arrived, sitting on one of the three chairs. Following suit, District 12's escort, Rita Skeeter appeared, her mouth stretched wide in a grisly red smile, her pale hair teased into corkscrew curls. After an uncomfortable silence, Rubeus Hagrid entered, staggering slightly, and sat down on the last chair.

Just as the clock struck two, the mayor stepped onto the podium and began to read. It was the same as he'd always read, every year. He spoke the history of England, the country that rose up from the ashes from a war torn country after the battle of Brexit. He mentioned the disasters, the droughts, Donald Trump, the fires, the storms, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. The result was a new England, with the Ministry ringed by thirteen districts.

But then the wars prospered the uprising of the thirteen districts against the Ministry. Twelve defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The new laws came into order, giving new laws to guarantee peace, which was named the Hunger Games.

In punishment for the uprising, the twelve districts of England, as penance, were commanded to provide two children to participate in the Games. The twenty- four of them were imprisoned in an arena, and over a period of several weeks, the competitors had to fight to the death, and the last tribute standing would be the winner.

The Hunger Games were treated as a festivity, a celebration, an event to turn each district against the other. The winning district would be showered with gifts of food whilst the losing districts would be left to battle the usual starvation.

The mayor read the list of victors. Harry allowed himself a smile at this point, catching Dudley's eye, for the reason that they had won the Hunger Games once. Enter Rubeus Hagrid, a rotund, tall man who spent his life drinking and breeding animals.

Mayor Dumbledore, quick to divert the attention off Hagrid, announced Rita Skeeter, who sauntered onto the podium, and dug her hand into the huge bowl with everyone's names in. Harry closed his eyes, he felt sick, he so desperately wished for his safety, Ginny's safety, Dudley's, his own, he wished frantically that it wasn't him, it wasn't him, it wasn't Harry-

And it wasn't Harry.

It was Dudley.

* * *

 ** _Hi there, thanks for reading! I'm trying to update as much as possible, I really like this idea, if you do too please, please review/ favourite/ follow it, anything- it would make my day! :) -pxlblack xx_**


	2. Chapter 2

II

Confusion ebbed through Harry. At first, it was like he was deaf; and then he couldn't even begin to comprehend what was going on- it was all too fast- all too quick-

His head whipped around to see his aunt and uncle, who had clearly interpreted the news. His uncle had turned from grey to red to green faster than a set of traffic lights, and his aunt- _Petunia_ , she'd collapsed, fainted, held up by the surrounding adults.

Stricken, Harry turned back to look at Dudley, who was now making his way to the centre-front. His back was turned, but Harry already knew that he was trying to put on a brave face. It all suddenly came clear to Harry, like he was suddenly seeing everything in colour.

'Stop!' A scream tore from his throat. 'S-stop, I- I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!'

A murmur swept the crowd. Harry pushed his way forward frantically, and the teenagers parted as easily as he could've hoped. Soon he was out onto the open space, only him and Dudley, and then the stage, the podium, were Rita Skeeter stood, her eyes wide open in an almost faux surprise.

Harry knew that she was genuinely staggered, but the Ministry looked so different, so grotesque, you had to look closely. Her expression brought him completely back to himself, and he stood his ground, straightening his back. He cleared his throat. 'I- I volunteer as a tribute.'

Everyone was deathly silent, each face an identical mask of horror. No one in District 12 ever volunteered for anyone else, it was unheard of.

In wealthier Districts, where children were trained from young ages to fight in the Hunger Games, being picked was an honour, and volunteering was always occurring.

Rita Skeeter frowned, her eyebrows knitting together. 'Of- of course. Come forward.'

Silence swept the town square as Harry nervously came forward. His eyes flitted to the crowd; he looked at the people who no longer cared, the people who clutched hands desperately, the people who had silent tears streaming down their faces.

Harry kept him nose up in the air, his eyes fixed forward. He had to be brave, he _couldn't_ back down, he had to show a strong front for everyone there. He couldn't let them see his pain- that would make him a weak prey once the games started.

In the distance, he heard Dudley. His shouts as he was carried away. Harry's heart pounded and a white hot pain spread through him. This was all for him- for Dudley- his cousin.

As he approached the podium and shook hands with Mayor Dumbledore, he became increasingly aware of the disjointed cries around him. Harry had become someone special; someone heavily respected in their District. This was special.

The cameras were fixed on Harry, who looked coldly back at them. He almost felt emotion- relief- when Rita Skeeter stalked over to the podium again to announce the second tribute.

'Alright- okay, time for our second person! This is all very exciting, indeed.' She stuck her hand once again into the great glass bowl and fished around with her long claw- like nails. 'Our second tribute today is- _Draco Malfoy!_ '

Harry's heart thumped, although it took him a moment to place the name. _Draco Malfoy._ Harry shouldn't have felt _sad,_ or anything generally towards Malfoy, because their last encounter was years ago. So long ago, Harry doubted the other boy would even remember...

* * *

 **I will be updating as often as possible with this over the next week (i hope). If I could get a review or fave or anything nice like that, it would make my day. Thank you for reading, have a nice day :)**


	3. Chapter 3

III

It was during the worst period of poverty. Uncle Vernon had been injured in the drills factory and was unable to work for months. Aunt Petunia was distraught; she spent all her time with him, and Harry and Dudley were left to fend for themselves.

The District had given Uncle Vernon a small amount of paid leave, after which time he was expected to go back to work. But he couldn't, it was as if he was immobilized, he wasn't able to somehow. So for months on end, him and Aunt Petunia stayed put.

Harry was terrified. He had already lost his parents, and he was convinced that he would loose his aunt and uncle too. So from that day on, Harry had to work twice as hard for the family- there wasn't any other way to keep everybody alive. He bought food from Ollivander's, he sold Dudley's old baby clothes, and tried to keep everybody looking presentable.

But soon, the money all ran out. Poverty struck the family, and ultimately, they were starving.

Until Draco Malfoy helped him.

Harry was wandering around the richer parts of town, where the mayor lived, to see if they had any food. Harry could find some food in the bins, maybe. It was strictly forbidden, but he didn't care. He approached the nearest bin and opened it; to his astonishment, he found two loaves of bread- spotlessly lying at the bottom. Quickly, he delved into the bin and grabbed the loaves, holding them to his chest, holding the warmth closer to him.

Harry was just leaving when a blow hit the back of his head, sending him reeling. He dropped the two loaves, which skidded into a puddle, and his heart sank. He looked up fearfully to see Lucius Malfoy, his long black cane in one hand, his pale face contorted into an ugly rage. His words were cruel, angry, but Harry was too tired, to hungry, to comprehend them, they sounded disjointed, discombobulated. Harry closed his eyes. _So this was the end for him. If he were to die right here, right now, it would not matter to him, as he doubted he could even get up anymore, he was too weak from hunger._

'Potter, _go!_ _Now!_ ' He heard a voice say. He looked up, his head weak, to see Draco Malfoy, handing his the bread, eyes wide with apprehension and fear. His father was confused, evidently shocked that his son had gone against him to help Harry Potter. There was a sense of urgency in his voice. 'Harry! _Now!_ '

Harry nodded, grabbed the bread, ducking Lucius Malfoy and ran, as fast as he could _home,_ to his family, as he had food, sustenance, to keep them going. They were safe now.

Because of Draco.

* * *

 **hi hi this was a short chapter because i'm going out soon and it's a flash back so i can't write that much but yeah anyway. thank you so much for the reviews! v sweet :) i'll probably update this as i said before, as much as possible, but i can't promise when- but it would be super nice to get some reviews! it would make my day honestly, please tell me if you liked it! xx**


End file.
